Green Fairy
by ArmageddonClan
Summary: Post-Stench of Purexo FF Part 3. A musical destiny is yet to be determined. And the green fairy may possibly aid in recovering certain memories.
1. Chapter 1 - Shell Shock

Turned out "Loose Ends" still needed a bit of an epilogue. May be semi-pointless, so read at own risk. Thanks to AgentUrsa for reminding that soldering guitars is an excellent story element. Also, thanks to Manowar, Symphony X and Ghost for chapter song titles!

-ArmageddonClan

 **Chapter 1: Shell Shock**

The smell of hot solder was another pleasant one. It possibly wasn't healthy to inhale for extended periods of time, but for rarely repeating operations, like changing the pickups on a guitar, it likely didn't matter.

"Some would think this as blasphemy," Jo said from behind the hot iron.

Only one day, and she was already customizing the guitar, by installing high-output but passive Invader pickups to replace the battery-powered EMG81 and 85, which were usually "the" pickups to use with the high-end ESP models. On a new guitar, the procedure needed care. You didn't want to forget a screw under the guitar, or let the pickups fall on it by accident, as both of those would surely result in a scratch on the paint.

To tell the truth, Ian already had it difficult to remember which fates the previous red guitars had met. At least one had been blown up as part of staging their death. This one would hopefully last for a bit longer time.

Ian also remembered the scene in the music store yesterday.

...

"Dad. I'm grown up now, I buy my own guitars. And what is this for, for getting you shot?"

But in the end, Jo didn't have any other choice but to yield. Russ was completely unbudging.

Later, back at the studio, Ian had to ask.

"Do you remember getting the previous one?"

Jo had to think for a moment.

"It was from you. But it's a bit like from another reality. I remember saying something ... cute. But it wasn't really a happy time."

A rather perfect summary. It also would be logical that some memories directly related to the artificial SCEPTRE personality would indeed be permanently faded or even lost. Now, at least, should be a much happier time. After getting their names cleared.

Ian possibly got lost into his thoughts for an extended time. Because he was only nudged back to present time by Jo actually squeezing his shoulders a bit.

"You OK? You're in this reality or another?"

Ian just had to smile in response, but then, he continued the trail of thought he had been lost on. The important keyword being, should.

It turned out that after an adventure like the last one, you could feel lost, in an insidious delayed manner. Ian knew he badly wanted to be back out there kicking ass. But the question was, when would he actually be capable? Jo wasn't exactly free from problems either; at least two times she had woken up to nightmares, possibly of being held in MSA captivity again.

Ian remembered the previous aftermath. The Yaris wreck. Back then they had been much more ready to give the world the finger. So why not now, again? But likely, it only required time. If this had been the last mission, then it would also be the last case of being shell-shocked.

...

"Do you think this is a good idea? You sure you actually want me to try it out?" Jo asked as she was sitting at the laptop.

It was a local band lacking a guitarist. Progressive power metal. As long as they still stayed at Antisound Studio, it was a perfect opportunity. A distraction. Nothing serious necessarily. Of course, if she actually got the gig, and it would turn out more exciting than AGENT, Ian would potentially be left out. But AGENT was still in a limbo, due to no contact from Erik, and Ian not knowing what to do with the old lyrics.

The name was a bit ominous. But it actually fit just perfectly too, to combat their potential demons head-on.

Black Flame of Sin.

Of course Ian had thought whether that actually referred to something SCEPTRE-inspired, if not only traditional or anti-cosmic Satanism. Well, then they could call on the remaining Agents to investigate.

"You've got the guitar, so it would be wasting it otherwise."

"Fine. Here goes nothing."

She started typing on the keyboard. There was a bell sound shortly after; the band apparently responded in near real-time. Ian considered: were they some weird adrenaline junkies that were online 24/7, or was that even more possible proof that they were SCEPTRE, actually jacked up on combat drugs?

Get a grip! he told himself. Unless you only mean that as a joke.

"They replied," Jo said. "They want me to learn a couple of Yngwie songs, and one of their own."

"Sounds like fun."

"Not so sure. Don't know which level of perfection they're expecting. But. I want to do something to say thanks. It was your idea."

Ian knew Jo had researched the official name for the couch incident, so he could use it.

"Glomp me."

He potentially regretted the words the instant they were out of his mouth. It was a bit like being out in the middle, when the vocalist gave the hand sign for a wall of death. Though, it was only Jo. Even in the worst case, she couldn't cause that much damage. And it felt good to forget his heavier thoughts at least for a moment.

Jo gathered force for a few seconds, and then came the impact.


	2. Chapter 2 - In the Dragon's Den

**Chapter 2: In the Dragon's Den**

It rained slightly. Ian drove the Toyota, while Jo still replayed the riffs in her head. Hopefully, she had all of them down to near-perfection, and in the correct order. The band's own song was actually the worst, full of shifting and uneven time signatures. The Yngwie songs Jo could sort of cheat her way through. This was something most who played with her didn't actually get. She cheated all the time with the very fastest parts. As long as it still sounded good, it didn't matter.

She thought Black Flame of Sin might actually see through it, if they were the next level of pro.

Finally she thought she could do no more in preparation. Either she got the riffs down properly now, or she would fail epically at some moment.

Therefore, she thought back to the glomp. In a way, it had been worse than the first. This time it had actually involved Ian hitting his head against the bedroom wall. Not hard, but still.

His words following immediately after were incoherent, but it hadn't been due to actual head trauma. It was likely something he had wanted to say, something very similar to the "interview," and this was the opportunity.

"Don't worry, it's not bad. Though, you have to consider the risks. Of trope explosion. Like Please Wake Up. Followed by Bridal Carry. Or any other combination. Hey, what Yngwie songs did they make you learn?"

Jo had been slightly reluctant to even answer, because Ian was likely going to twist it to something random too. She had not been far off.

"Rising Force. And then Wield My Sword from Alchemy."

"The last one is perfect. Because I imagine it's about you as the knight. Fall into my arms and I'll bring you back, or how it did go."

"I'll bring you to Russ so he can examine your head."

Jo actually got Ian up from the bed an inch before he protested.

"I meant in a figurative sense! Like from a heroic BSOD! Don't break your back before the audition!"

She had sighed and put him back down.

...

This was the moment. Of entering the dragon's den. That was in the title of a Symphony X song. Jo rarely listened to them, and didn't know the songs that well, but they ticked off many of the progressive power metal cliches. Like an excessively strong-voiced vocalist. Fantasy themes. And a rotund and virtuoso-like (male) guitarist. If that was the exact criteria, then Jo was sadly going to fail anyway.

It was somewhat unclear what had exactly happened with the previous guitarist. From what Jo understood, he hadn't been fired, but had left. She'd played with a few paranoid thoughts, and Ian had joined with pleasure. What if the band had an execution chamber for previous members, like the Innovativi3D coder sauna?

Instead of endless basements, this rehearsal lot was a rented space on the second floor of a concrete building in the middle of the town. Apparently they rented space for various activities, another way to keep the small town from stagnating.

Jo had the ESP guitar with her in the hard case, and a floor preamp / effects pedal borrowed from the studio. The sounds she had dialed up weren't perfection, but workable.

She knocked the door that had to be the correct one. One minute before agreed time.

It opened.

"Hey. You're just in time."

Jo took in the sight before her quickly.

White featureless walls, with acoustic paneling installed. The drumkit with two bassdrums on the far wall, an almost endless array of cymbals hung on a rack-mount system. A large effect rack just for the bass guitar, and another for the keyboardist, who had two sets of keys mounted so that his hands could be seen when he was playing. Likely one of the keyboards was exclusively for playing solos.

And the musicians themselves. The drummer looked very thin and maniacal, more of an athlete than a musician. But the length of black hair was enough for any genre. He appeared to have weights on his wrists and legs, likely these were for warm-up and then to be taken off later to gain maximum speed.

The bassist was more stocky, beard covering most of his face.

The keyboardist, not that distinguishable. A mop of blond hair that reminded Jo of the period when Ian had been regrowing his after the short-lived SCEPTRE retraining.

And finally, the vocalist, who had opened the door and which Jo knew by name, as he had conversed with her online. Anthony. He had his brown hair in a ponytail, wearing a ruffled white shirt, and black leather trousers. From a cursory inspection, image potentially could be everything for him, and suddenly Jo felt somewhat underdressed in her own dark denim.

Jo noticed no actual speaker cabinets anywhere.

"We use in-ear monitors," the keyboardist explained, as if sensing her puzzlement.

Fuck! Then she would have failed to produce a critical piece of equipment. Or – she could just use her cell phone headphones. Not perfect, but might just do.

That turned indeed to be the case. There was a cord long enough, and an adapter so that Jo could plug the headphones in. She began to setup the effects unit, to plug it in to the band's mixer.

At last she could hear herself. The sound was somewhat of a thin buzz compared to the deep bass guitar, for instance, and she felt almost – ashamed. She tweaked the EQ and volume level slightly, and it was better.

The band would be using one half-step down tuning. Just like Yngwie. That Jo had at least prepared for properly. A locking tremolo like on the ESP could not be retuned in an instant.

One minute more, and they were prepared to play something.

"Rising Force first?" the bassist asked.

"Fine," Jo replied.

The song started with an ominous synth bass and choir summoned by the keyboardist. Jo knew the chords were supposed to repeat four times –

Then the drummer already started his part, and Jo knew she was supposed to join too, on the low E-string. She missed by a few notes. Fuck.

Finally they got to the main riff, which she knew inside out. She couldn't fail that at least.

There was a break before the first verse, and Jo tried to apply vibrato just like Yngwie.

Then Anthony started to sing, and it was in fact very perfect, strong, and metal. Like Yngwie's best vocalists combined. Jo forced herself to concentrate.

After two verses, the song would begin the quite-fast lead interlude before the actual dueling guitar / keyboard solos. Due to the tempo, this was where Jo certainly needed to cheat. No sixteenth notes, but just slower triplets instead. It sounded about the same. The only risk was missing the beat and the chord changes; if that happened, the playing would become mostly unsalvageable.

Fortunately, that didn't happen. The first actual solo would be played by the keyboard.

Fuck! It was loud. The keyboardist certainly wanted to show off. Jo almost felt like her ears would explode. Thankfully, her own solo patch was loud as hell also, and it was comparatively easy to play something hyperfast as a followup.

Following mostly the original, Jo started with a bend up to the high G# note, which was followed by a fully picked run in the Phrygian scale going downward on the guitar's neck. Playing at full speed never ceased to be fun. For the second guitar solo, which began in H, Jo improvised more, using tapping, though Yngwie himself wouldn't usually do that here.

The final verse followed the solos.

By now, Jo thought back to the concept of dissociation. This wasn't far off. She was doing OK, and these guys certainly knew their stuff, and if she would just return to more stringent practice, she would certainly fill their expectations to the maximum, but …

She couldn't help a creeping sense of pointlessness.

Certainly, no SCEPTRE here. Not that she had expected that for real anyway.

Just ambitious musicians, that she didn't really connect with.

Jo considered whether she had already given up too easily. Well, there were still the rest of the songs.

...

Finally it was over. A sort of mutual agreement, that she would not become the guitarist of Black Flame of Sin.

Jo walked back to the Toyota, and put the guitar case on the rear seat. Ian caught her expression of relief. It wasn't quite a smile, but not that far from it either.

"So you're in?" he asked.

"No."

"But…?"

Jo sat down to the passenger seat. She really didn't feel like explaining, and it couldn't even be explained that easily or briefly. Sometimes knowing what you didn't want was extremely enlightening, but she didn't necessarily want to define it in such a negative manner only.

"Let's put it this way, with a question. What would you want? I mean, musically. If you could have anything."

Ian considered for a few seconds. But given the potential width of the answers, it still didn't take long.

"To kick ass. With two guitars. Like Tipton and Downing. Mustaine and Friedman. Or Eric and Brian Hoffman. You're the more skilled one, and I'm more raw and primitive. If I'm being honest, I don't care if I'm the singer or not."

It was sort of exactly what Jo had expected.

"Then we'll do just that," she said.

To be honest, Jo had no idea how it was actually going to happen. She sort of had one possibility in mind, but it felt just like a potential (almost fatal?) clash waiting to happen.

Ian smiled and reached out to her. "D major. Optimism and hope. You're doing it again."

Now Jo could follow his thoughts quite good. After the audition, where the atmosphere of semi-fail and uncertainty and awkwardness had lingered throughout, it felt good to just sink into his lap for a while. Too bad the Toyota wouldn't drive itself.


	3. Chapter 3 - Spirit

**Chapter 3: Spirit**

Kim thought of what she had just agreed to. Something like voluntary suicide, playing Russian Roulette for instance, was too extreme of a comparison, but it wasn't that far from it either.

She thought she should already have been beyond that line of thinking. After all, they had practically been in war together now. All of them. Still, she did not look forward to it in the slightest. Having them teach her the operation of an assault rifle or Agent headgear was one thing.

But a drinking session … to consider a possible four-piece band lineup?

What good could come out of it? They swore by thrash metal. The genres were incompatible. And that was just the start.

By now she could very well accept that Ian and Jo would do their own thing. Whatever that was. She didn't feel irrational hatred any more. But neither did she have anything to look forward from this, really.

Kim had insisted on one thing. They would rent a slightly larger cabin from Rocks Falls. So the session happened on somewhat neutral ground, and if something completely horrible happened, like a shouting match or even a fistfight, the memory wouldn't taint Erik's cabin. After all, it was a quite pleasant place to stay in. And the drum kit + bass equipment were still there, in lack of better options.

...

Kim heard the engine sound now, which had to be the familiar Toyota. At this point, it rather made her think of war, the MSA rendition facility raid. Maybe that was good. Erik was inside the cabin doing the final preparations; it was well stocked with absinthe and other beverages, and food.

The Toyota stopped, and the two climbed out, Jo from behind the wheel.

"Hey," Kim said in a low emotionless voice.

"Hey. Erik's inside?" Ian asked.

"Hail is the proper greeting," Erik growled from behind.

Kim thought of sinking into the role she preferred most. To just observe quietly, expression unmoving. Until some kind of conclusion would be reached. Or enough absinthe would be consumed.

All four of them headed inside.

"Anyone hungry?" Erik asked. "If not, we could start with the absinthe immediately."

"Sounds good," Jo said. Kim observed she appeared wary. To have band members being wary at each other would never do in the long run. This was not a good sign.

Glasses with an artful pattern were spread out on the table of the large living room.

"Those are yours, right?" Ian asked. "The same we used when drinking to SCEPTRE's stupidity?"

"Right."

This was new to Kim. So absinthe had been related to warfare, even before.

Erik brought out the lighter, and the sugar cubes. Czech method instead of classic. It was fine by Kim, actually she preferred the taste of burned sugar cubes. And using fire hinted at war, too.

Kim sat back as he started preparing the first round for everyone.

...

"Green flash … green fairy," Ian said, almost mumbling the words already, though it was only his second shot. Maybe he was acting.

"I mean, maybe the fairy will let us remember."

"You mean, what actually happened during the time -" Erik interjected.

"Time when we were killed," Jo finished the sentence for him, almost crudely. "Should we drink more?"

"For sure," Ian said. "I'm not yet remembering anything. But we should be prepared to take notes. It's possible we only remember for a short time. Jo, you actually remembered something already. At Stahlhölle. You said you had wheels."

"I don't remember. Was possibly too drunk then. Maybe I was thinking of the Yaris. Or any of the other cars. There's too many of them already."

Jo was certainly drunk now as well. And Kim knew she was getting there. She just wasn't very talkative yet. But she observed none of this discussion to be actually intolerable. She sort of remembered her own period of being killed – the soul separation experiment. But then, there were later memory holes. So she wanted to remember just like the rest of them, and maybe the green fairy was the key and the gate.

Therefore, it was time for more. The somewhat responsible part of her mind knew, that for everything one had to pay later. But maybe it was worth it.

By now Erik didn't strictly need to act as the master of ceremonies solely. There were several lighters, so Kim started burning the next sugar cube on her own.

Finished, she started downing the greenish liquid. Due to not dripping water in slowly, the louche did not form perfectly, but the taste of caramelized sugar made up for it.

And suddenly.. there was a flash of insight.

A maze of passageways suspended in the void of space. Epic battles. Erik was there too, though not in his own body. Fuck. Kim needed to write all of this down. Even if it was only imagination, it could become the next doom metal lyric, at least if modified and censored to acceptable form.

The cell phone touch keyboard was too challenging to use already, but Ian had brought pens and a paper pad. Kim tore off a sheet and started writing things down frantically, before the memories died down.

...

Kim could only know some time had passed with no precise recollection. But she was sitting on the kitchen floor, against the oven. She observed herself to be laughing. Jo sat next to her, also in drunken good spirits. Kim also observed a half-empty bottle of absinthe, and more papers they had been writing on.

Jo started speaking, surprisingly coherently. "So… I think I was a Corsa. Yes, I think I remember it right. It was one hell of a war. But I couldn't have fought it alone. I think the pillow … was Ian. He couldn't do much at first. Then he started eating stuff … and learning new things. And I … Fuck! I was such a damsel. Like always. I charged into this cave on my own, and got my ass handed to me. But he … expanded."

Kim didn't perhaps follow or understand everything, but she observed herself to pat Jo's shoulder reassuringly. It was most atypical, not like how she should have normally behaved. Kim could kind of relate. The other-dimensional memories had not faded, at least yet. When first appearing in the void of space, she had been close to suffocating, until Viktor taught her the trick, to become a god in her own right and create oxygen. That … or Jo becoming a car. It was kind of pointless to compare which was greater. Both were disproportionately epic things.

"I kind of know the feeling. But I think he likes you like that. Even if he denies it."

"What? No… Or yes, when it's completely pointless..."

By now Kim had also the complete insight and understanding of the relationship dynamic between the two. At least in the absinthe stupor, it wasn't that intolerable to think of. They could be acceptable guitarists, if they only accepted the genre of doom metal, and didn't try to expand it too much. Though Kim was aware enough to understand the thought had to be re-tested, while completely sober.

Jo made to stand up. "Hell yeah. That's the way I'll live. Pointless... But cute. Where is he?"

Kim followed, observing somewhat more difficulty to stay upright. Certainly, what was going to follow in the morning was not going to be pleasant.

Ian and Erik were at the living room table, deep in drunkenness, but still able to converse.

"But how? How the hell … did you know that you could "glitch" inside the cat?" Ian asked.

"I didn't. But remember, it was just me ... partially occupying ... this Producer. She also had her own ideas," Erik said, with some difficulty.

"Ah, fuck! Now I get it. Horror … the horror … did her ideas include … 3D internet?"

"Think so. A lot … of bad code. Though I understand nothing … of it."

Most of this went over Kim's head. But they would just have to compare notes later. If they were anything intelligible, maybe then the grand truth could be pieced together. If it even mattered at that point.

"Fuck," Ian breathed and leaned back in his chair, still apparently reliving the horror, which Kim could not fully appreciate.

Jo reached the table. "Was it really that bad?" she asked. "Innovativi3D?"

At the mention of that name, Ian leaned so far back in a sudden motion that the chair lost balance irrevocably.

At least in Kim's drunken sense of time, it also appeared to happen in a perfectly smooth motion that Jo caught Ian in her arms before he actually fell to the floor. A moment later, they both were on the floor, but in a controlled manner. Kim thought she felt just a bit envious, because she would never be able to do the same to Erik.

"I remember that too. When we'd destroyed Tacgnol's soul … I couldn't fly any more. But she caught me," Ian said, appearing mostly unfazed. Maybe when you were drunk enough, nothing shocked you any more.

"Yeah. And that's also the Yngwie knight song," Ian finished.

Jo was shaking her head slowly in disbelief. But Kim also observed her to be moved almost to the point of tears. Fine, as long as they wouldn't repeat that on stage.

Kim thought this was the turning point for her blood alcohol level to start dropping. It was bad; the hangover would be on its way. But now she potentially had, for a fleeting instant, the mental capability and clarity to piece together the whole story. So Erik had been sent inside that car-dimension too … and they had destroyed the soul of the Big Bad. Who was responsible for everything. Fuck. It just went beyond the imagination. This was possibly too much even for doom metal.

...

The morning was grey and rainy, just fitting the hangover. Kim actually tried to vomit, but so far it refused to come. She just felt terrible, and considered she should just make a lot of coffee, and drink it all black. Well, now she had time to re-evaluate her destiny. The potential four-piece doom band, that was. The notes of the interdimensional story … Well, they obviously were there too, but their relevancy was questionable. This was possibly a mental low point, so if the band appeared a good idea now, it would possibly stay a good idea.

Jo emerged into the kitchen as well. Perhaps somehow unfairly, Kim thought a lot hinged on how they would get along. Now Kim thought they would.

"You know, you still have to learn to play properly," Jo said to her.

Kim didn't even think of it as much of an offense.

"Yeah. You too. I mean, proper doom. And fuck you too."

Jo chuckled a bit. There possibly still was a lot to consider. Who would have the ultimate leadership? Well, possibly it would be like in their warfare. When there was no clear leader either, and still they had persevered against all odds.


End file.
